Exercise Daily Eat Wisely Die Anyway
by IStillThinkImHuman
Summary: It's the middle of a zombie apocalypse and all Stiles wants is to get back to his dad in California 3000 miles away, it's a little hard when he doesn't have a car or a sense of direction or any friends that aren't well, dead. Then he meets Derek and his friends (Stiles uses this term very loosely) and things start to change.


_Exercise daily. Eat wisely. Die anyway_

_-_ _Anonymous_

* * *

_click_

The lock on the abandoned suburban house clicked free and Stiles grinned, if there's one thing he could do it was pick a lock. Years of practice being the sheriff's son hadn't taught him nothing after all. He quickly surveyed the dark street he was on for the... what was it, sixth time maybe? Seven? It didn't really matter, one could never be too careful these days. It was a little hard to see but he knew travelling in the night was infinitely better then traveling in the day, he may be able to see better then but so could everything else.

After he was 99% sure the street was completely vacated (he didn't trust himself to ever be completely sure, not anymore) he pushed himself into the house, taking care to quietly lock it back up. The house looked to be your standard two-story-family-of-four-with-a-dog-and-a-double-car-garage place and he figure it'd take him about 20 minutes tops to check all the rooms. He took a deep breath and set out to do just that.

He found his suspicious to be true when his search turned up three bedrooms on the second floor, a spacious earth toned room for the parents, one that looked like it belonged to a teenage girl going through her boy bands phase and another that looked eerily similar to his bedroom when he was a young kid, teenage mutant ninja turtles posters and all. He felt a spike of something in his gut and yeah, he was going to keep the door closed on that one.

After he felt it was safe enough to let a bit of his guard down Stiles headed to the kitchen to see if there was anything salvageable to eat. Setting his tattered backpack in the corner he went straight to the cupboards. He had to admit the previous owners didn't leave him much in their scramble to get out of the house but he managed to find a few cans of baked beans and sighed. He seriously considered the fact that the worst thing to come out of this whole 'world ending' thing was the upsetting lack of curly fries. At least this meant his dad couldn't go out and eat his weight in fast food and greasy pizza which was what Stiles totally knew would happen the second he set out for college 3000 miles away.

Stiles swallowed, he was stopping that train of thought before it got any further.

He grabbed a can tight in his hand before standing up to find some sort of cutlery because hey, just because most of the world's population had been turned into gruesome savages didn't mean he had to act like one too. His eyes caught on the shiny stainless steel of the kitchens tap.

"No..." he muttered "My lucks not that good is it?"

Blearily he realized he was talking to himself as he brought his hand forward hesitantly to turn the knob on the tap and _holy hell the place had running water _Stiles silently thanked whatever deity was responsible for this, he thought that it had been cut off to preserve water or something as the last few places he hit hadn't had it, the family must have had a well or something, Stiles didn't particularly care to question it because this meant _he got to take a shower. Fucking finally. _And yeah if someone could hear his thoughts they'd most likely be thinking wow this guy needs help, but after weeks of dirt and he didn't want to know what else building up on his skin Stiles didn't care. He just wants to get himself clean.

So search for cutlery abandoned and hunger momentarily forgotten he set off to do just that.

* * *

It only took him a minute or so to relocate the master bathroom he'd found on his earlier search and even less time to excitedly peel off his sticky clothes. He was pleasantly surprised to find that among the list of necessities the family had thought to pack in their scramble to leave the house, soap and shampoo were not among them. Stiles stayed in the shower far longer than he could keep track of, scrubbing at his skin until it felt raw and was pink as a newborn babe. He didn't know when he'd be getting this luxury again.

As an almost second thought he pulled his clothes under the spray, figuring he might as well have them clean for as long as he could. Finally he managed to force himself out from under the sinfully delightful spray and pulled back on his batman boxers and faded 'The Who' shirt, he accepted the fact that there was enough rips and tears in his jeans to not even bother to putting them back on. He left them lying on the bathroom floor and headed towards the master bedroom, he remembered seeing a pile of spare clothes and hoped there'd be something in there he could use.

Silently he mourned the loss of his favorite red hoodie, he'd had to leave it behind when he left. Bright colors weren't exactly great for the situation, it was like wearing a sign that said _'hi there! You almost missed me but I'm right here, delicious intact brains and all. Come and get it.' _He'd need to find a new jacket soon though because fall was starting to set in and travelling in the night wasn't exactly fun when you were freezing your ass of.

Stiles rummaged through the pile, he didn't manage to find any sort of jacket but he did find a nice pair of blue jeans, they were a little loose around the waist but hey, that's what belts were for. He grabbed an extra pair to throw in his backpack and headed downstairs, freshly clean and ready to eat.

There's a sense of accomplishment he feels seeing the early morning light shining through the cracks in the window shudders, knowing he survived another day in this hell hole that is now his life and the lives of every other living creature on the planet. Well that's not entirely true, he can't say for sure how the worlds fairing across the pond.

The outbreak was fast, some sort of USA government experiment gone wrong is as much as he got from the news alert he was watching before everyone started screaming and the screen turned to black. Being in such a high populated area as New York, it didn't take long for things to turn into a never ending replay of 'Zombieland', with more death and violence and less funny jokes and twinkies. Except Tallahassee only really got one in that movie so maybe the same amount of twinkies. Needless to say he got out of there fast, his perfect attendance record at NYU really wasn't worth it. He'd been itching to take a break from the city life for a while anyway, this just isn't what he had in mind.

His stomach growled.

_Right food._

Stiles deposited the spare jeans in his bag and walked to the center of his kitchen. His eyes narrowed and a confused look found its way across his face, he was sure he'd placed the can of beans beside the sink on the counter. He scratched his head. Eh, he was probably just distracted by the fact he'd get to take a shower. He leaned down and opened the cupboard to get another one and zip, nada, nothing, there weren't any cans in there. He felt himself frown and hurried to open the rest of the cupboards, all of them were empty. His eyes scanned the room and came up with nothing, _okay what was going on. _He stayed quiet and listened.

Just as he was about to give up and except the fact that he might just be extra paranoid today, he heard a quiet thump and then a loud voice.

"What the hell are you doing? That's the food."

Stiles rushed to the front window and cautiously looked through the blinds, he could make out two figures, both male. They were standing at the top of the driveway across the street, a bland black duffel bag at their feet. The shorter one had shaggy brown hair and he gestured to the bag apologetically, if he said anything it was much too low for stiles to hear.

"Just give it to me, don't even know why we brought you."

The same voice from before was heard again and Stiles deducted it came from the taller of the two, blonde and a nice build from what he could tell, but he didn't seem to have the greatest attitude. Meanie McShout-erson (Stiles would think of a better nickname later when he wasn't utterly shocked out of his mind because _people, actual live breathing people.)_ snatched the bag before turning around and entering the house.

Stiles looked back to the other figure, he just stood there staring at the ground for a few minutes silently before looking up. Stiles jumped back from the window and prayed the guy hadn't seen him. He waited about fifteen minutes just to be safe before looking back outside. This time the driveway was emptied besides a _completely conspicuous _large white van.

It really doesn't take Stiles long to decide what to do,now that he's got an idea as to what happened to all the food in the house. So, spurred on by his deprived stomach he grabs his backpack and heads out the backdoor to get his damn beans back.

* * *

After hashing out several plans of attack Stiles finally decides to go with the old sneak-in-and-out-before-anyone-notices-you plan he's pretty sure all the houses on this block have the same layout and screw what everyone says, he's excellent at stealth attacks.

He fights his way through several backyards to cross the street at a place where someone wouldn't notice him if they were to just glance out the front window, managing to only get a few scraps here and there, and takes his time getting to the house after crossing, hiding behind abandoned cars and crouching down as low as he can get without actually being on the ground. He slides himself up the side of the van and across the length of the garage, ducking under a window to get to the door.

He wonders what his chances are that the door is already unlocked and that there won't be a bunch of murderous people on the other side. He figures the van could hold up to eight but still that's eight against one and those aren't odds that Stiles particularly likes.

Stiles goes over the statistics in his head and it doesn't look good for him but you know what his luck has been pretty good so far leading up to the current predicament so he thinks what the hell and tries the door, it turns out to be unlocked, really a fault on their side, so he heads right on into the small foyer. Smile lasting as long as it takes to turn to his right and then there's a blinding pain on his temple and _oh hello floor, how are you doing today?_

Stiles looks up and it may be the fact that he just got hit in the head _really hard _but he thinks he sees an angel, an angel with long strawberry blonde hair and a perfect completion and a _shovel_ and the angel is scowling at him and remember what stiles was saying earlier about luck? Yeah, not long lasting it appears, because really? A shovel? Indoors? Is that really a household object?

There's another face next to the strawberry blonde angel and now Stiles is pretty sure he's dead, he knew that shower was too good to be true, because if the girl was an angel then the guy standing next to her was a god. Stiles was positive that people weren't allowed to look this good on earth so in conclusion, Stiles spirit had floated out of his body to heaven or somewhere damn close.

He wonders how he died, he probably did something completely Stiles like and tripped over a rock in the street banging his head and dying in a completely forgettable way. Figures that during a zombie apocalypse Stiles wouldn't get killed by actual zombies, at least he didn't have to worry about turning into one of them. He spared moment thinking about who would tell his dad, if anyone would. Probably not, he decided, it was probably better that way.

He hears fuzzy melodic sounds above him and oh, _oh, _those sounds were directed at him. Stiles tries to get a response out but it's really hard to focus on anything when the heavenly beings are now touching him with their warm soothing hands and shaking him roughly and vaguely stiles thinks they really shouldn't be shaking him right now because all he want to do is sleep and they're making it hard.

He tries to mutter 'no stop' and thinks he manages to get out some sort of noncommittal grunt because the hands are suddenly off him and that's not what he meant he just wanted then to stop shaking him come back.

He reaches out a hand in the direction he thinks they went before everything in his mind fades to black.

* * *

**AN: Yeah so lemme know what you think and/or if you think I should continue. Also my tumblr is sterekimpala if you're into that.**


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